


Six Months

by cassiejamie



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-16
Updated: 2005-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiejamie/pseuds/cassiejamie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, then. Thank you for the travel. It's been... interesting. Goodbye, Mal."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Months

**Author's Note:**

  * For [playfullips (dessertmeltdown)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dessertmeltdown/gifts).



Metal clanked against metal, the scissors snapped down with an angry flick of the wrist.

"What is your gorram problem?" Harsher than he intended, but they'd had a fine day getting shot and so he wasn't in the best of moods.

Seemed his friend wasn't in the best either.

Another instrument was slammed down. Eyes narrowed and burned a hole into his forehead. "My problem? My problem is that I told all of you that this was a bad idea, but no one listened to me and now I've got three people with serious injuries without the correct supplies to treat them effectively."

Eyes rolled and more things were thrown.

"We'd have the supplies if you'd stop _throwing_ them across the fucking room!"

An inaudible noise and beyond the door, she listened to them argue. Words wielded like swords; bitingangrybitter and then Inara was there, pulling her away as the last words hung in the air between the two men.

"Fine. You want off, we're two days from Ariel."

Then he was gone from the room, the ting of metal on the floor as an instrument fell from unsteady fingers.  


* * *

Kaylee immediately went toward the shops when they disembarked from Serenity. Their last job, though bloody, had meant they could afford themselves a few luxuries and each tired member of the crew was looking forward to it. Zoe made off behind her, eyes sad and Inara just glared at Mal.

"Don't start," he warned, hearing Simon and River when they stepped off the ship.

She simply shook her head as she walked toward the siblings. They spoke for a few minutes; River watched Mal the entire time with curious eyes, as if she knew Mal was being an ass but he refused to accept the guilt. If Simon Tam wanted off his boat, then he could get off.

"Well, then. Thank you for the travel. It's been... interesting. Goodbye, Mal." Simon stumbled through his words and turned before Mal could say anything. His hand looped with River's and then they disappeared into the crowd, blending in like some horrendous abstract painting.

_Good riddance_, Mal thought to himself. _Good riddance_.

Kaylee rushed past him a few minutes later, mumbling something that could have been an insult for all he knew and probably was with the way Zoë was looking at him.

"You didn't tell her." Her accusation was as gentle as the statement and he contemplated just ignoring that but Zoë wouldn't hesitate to call him on his shit.

"I knew she'd start crying and if they wanted off my ship, then they could get off. I wasn't going to stop them. They've been nothing but trouble ever since they got on." Jayne, sleeping off the anesthesia still, would have immediately taken that and ran.

Mal was glad Jayne wasn't around. A thought he squashed after a minute, because Jayne would know exactly how to get Mal's mind off what was happening to his crew with an idiot remark or some plan that would get them all in hot water.

But instead, Mal got to think about how his crew was whittling down from the tight knit family to a set of broken strangers.

* * *

Cold.

Mal twisted in his bunk, trying to find some place that was warm in his chilly quarters. Which actually weren't all that chilly – somehow his head had decided it even though he knew the temperature should have been a reasonable 18 degrees.

He rolled over again.

Maybe something was wrong with Serenity because his bed shouldn't have been as cold as it was; he stood up and pulled on pants. Suddenly he was warmer than before and he glared at his bed.

Rising from his quarters, Mal glanced around to see if anyone else was near and seeing no one, he randomly picked a direction.

He wound up outside what had been River and Simon's room. It had been empty for two and a half months, the beds inside stripped of the linens and all the warmth Simon had tried to make gone. Instead of the warm yellow hue that had been there all their time on Serenity, it was cold and gray.

Mal shook his head, "You're losing it, Reynolds." Then promptly realized he'd talked to himself, pursed his lips, and forced himself away.

* * *

When he was a child, a wise old man had told Mal that every life has snapshots that will be remembered. There was no chance of remembering a steady stream of days, just images in the mind that remind people of the greatest things they ever did.

It seemed Mal's mind had chosen his greatest accomplishment because, inter-spliced with the life he led, the day to day of flying the ship and trying to stay alive, Mal was thinking of Simon.

Thinking of Simon, River, Simon and River, the Reavers, and Simon and River and the Reavers. Thinking of blue tunics and sharp comments, bluntness, and naked skin. Thinking of warmth.

He couldn't stop himself from thinking of Simon as he came too after dozens of injuries. Thinking of Simon when he talked about a job; Simon's face during any number of jobs when he didn't like what was going down.

Simon, eyes closed and mouth slack and his back arched.

Mal banged his head on the nearest wall.

* * *

Simon stared out at the horizon, listening to the children play behind him and River laughing at something. The suns had set at his back, warming slightly tanned skin, but he still felt overwhelmingly cold.

Four months away from home will do that to a person.

He shook the thought from his head. Serenity may have been many things (the words decrepit and unsafe came to mind immediately), but it wasn't home. Home was the place he made for himself and River. If one ignored the fact that their current homestead was an outcast colony on the rim of a city and no one really interacted with them but people who were interested in Simon telling the story of the Reavers.

There really weren't any people who wanted to sit around at night and talk or create cakes out of protein rations. No gun-toting, brainless brawns who shot before they asked questions.

No one who would sneak into his room at night and crawl into bed so perfectly they never woke his sister.

Simon sighed and turned, watching the folk they'd fallen in with huddled close to the fire and River's hands gesturing in a manner he knew all too well. She danced in the light as she showed them how she fought against impossible odds to save them and damned if he didn't wish, just once, they could all leave it alone.

Reavers meant Mal would come up and then there would talks about the bravery of the Browncoat, Malcolm Reynolds.

He blinked, steeled his resolve, and reminded himself that he was home. And if his mind taunted him with _liar_ then it was just his imagination.

* * *

It had been the sixth month mark.

Jayne and Mal wanted something higher risk with a better payout than their usual work. Zoë and Kaylee had immediately voiced their opposition. Inara simply turned and left the room without a word, her accusations of carelessness unasked.

It wasn't supposed to be a job that would end with blood or anything like that. Something in and out, but in a more visible place with a hell of a lot more security.

Then the guns had appeared and allegations of double-crossing and treason and a thousand words flew between the two groups while Jayne studied the room for an exit. Mal didn't need to survey the area – he knew there was one way out and the gentlemen before them were blocking it. He carefully weighed his options.

For all of two seconds, Mal was silent and then he gave his usual grin and spat out a comment that went over the heads of their opponents.

Later he would determine that shooting when he didn't really have a plan wasn't the best of ideas. Of course, that was later when things were calmed down and Jayne was high-tailing it back to Serenity while carrying Mal on his back.

"What happened?" Zoë demanded before Jayne was even fully on the ship. Her fear was clear and defined, and when Inara appeared to tend Mal's wounds, Zoë ripped into him. No outward aggression or fists, but well-placed statements about loyalty. It was something else Mal would think about later.

As it was, Mal's eyes were slipping lower and closing against his will. He sputtered something. Choked on air.

_Well, fuck_, he thought, _this is how it ends then_.

His vision was black then, a perfect abyss to spend an eternity trying to reach atonement for his misdeeds.

* * *

Zoë watched Kaylee, her hair soft and shiny and spread across the pillow as she slept on the couch.

Inara stood near. Her face was grim and pale, and Zoë almost contemplated asking what she thought of the situation but they both had a silent agreement on the subject. They didn't need to say what they both knew.

"I'll go tell Jayne." And then Zoë was clunking down the hall with her mind on the idea of seeing Simon and River and bringing them home where they belonged. They'd all lost too many and Mal's body was a pattern of scars and wounds that none of them could navigate. Simon's hands were skilled and knew what to do.

She settled in the co-pilot's chair and touched the computer screen. She knew where Simon had gone. A favor from some friends had gotten her the information and she'd treasured it, waiting for the day she could bring it up.

Zoë hadn't anticipated Mal being so pigheaded that he'd get shot before she could get Simon and River back onboard Serenity.

Her call went unanswered for a few seconds and then he was there, in a haggard glory.

His hair was longer and his face tanned yet more sickly looking than before and Zoe felt her heart tug at the idea of how two of the most important men in her life had screwed up something so perfect.

"Zoë." Simon's voice sounded pained and in the background she could see River hovering, as if the name alone was a siren call. Her lips were curved in a smile; curved into a smile that wasn't sarcastic or painful or mysterious.

"Simon, listen..." She started and didn't stop until the entire situation was known to him and then some about Mal's recklessness. She doubted he'd be lured back by the idea but then he blinked and his eyes did the funny little sparkle they always did when he felt needed. And then she was putting them on a new course.

She only hoped Mal could last long enough to make it to Simon.

* * *

_Is he going to make it?_

_What do you mean you need my blood?!_

_Mal, you're still a pompous ass but we need you to try to wake up now._

His fingers felt like ice. His toes the same and the rest of his body was numb. His joints were stiff. In short, Mal couldn't nor did not want to move.

All the same, Simon still came to his side and took his hand. A hiss passed out of his lips and Simon started on about stupidity and experience and couldn't he just once, not get shot? He went on for a good ten minutes, berating Mal's choices, and when he'd gotten enough strength and energy to move, Mal reached up.

Simon had been confused by the touching until Mal pulled him down and they were kissing under the blue lights of the infirmary. Deep kisses, hungry kisses, and kisses that screamed of need.

Then Mal moved and felt the stitches pull.

"You were hurt pretty badly. You're lucky to be alive." Simon leaned back just enough to not be nose to nose and stated, "Just so we're clear, I hate you."

Mal winced with a small, breathless chuckle, and rasped, "Shiny, 'cause I hate you too."

* * *

_Epilogue_

  
Hot. Way too hot.

Mal kicked the covers away in his attempt to cool down. He patted around the bed, looking for the source of the warmth and when his hand collided with Simon's face, he remembered.

A tongue sleepily lapped at his palm and Mal quickly pulled it back; Simon was obviously happy to be home. If the erection shoved against his thigh meant anything, he was happy to be with Mal again as well.

He tried to deter Simon several times, including reminding the man that Simon had been the one to impose the "we're not having sex until you can participate" rule. (One week to go on that.) But Simon seemed intent on his goal and Mal was supremely glad that Simon was in Mal's bunk. He wasn't sure he'd want to have River asking what they were doing when Simon's face was _that_ close to Mal's dick.

His drawers were pulled out of the way; Mal knew Simon was going to play it up as usual because Simon was the biggest cocktease Mal had ever met. Only Simon didn't. He didn't lower his voice and talk while he stroked Mal, or lay warm kisses on his thighs while playing with Mal's sac.

Instead Simon went straight to licking at Mal's dick, sucking on the head and a finger stroking that stretch of skin just under his balls that made Mal groan.

Damn, but he was glad Simon was back.


End file.
